


Tomorrow

by bossxtweed



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Other, half fluff half angst, has a soft ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24464983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed
Summary: Pretending to be the Doctor, Missy picks up the Ponds and brings them to meet "the Master."
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Tomorrow

Tomorrow. 

Amy sits on the edge of the sofa, not moving, not breathing, her palms digging into the smooth leather and her heart beating in time with the ticking of the wall clock. Tick….tock. Tick…. _tock._ She bites her lip and tears her gaze away from the clock as Rory walks in, holding a stuffed bear behind his back, and she stands to greet him, drapes one arm over his shoulder, and with the other reaches behind him for the bear, only he pulls back, saying, “nuh-uh! Close your eyes!”

Before she obliges, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine.” A moment later she holds out her arms and says, “see? eyes are closed.”

Tomorrow.

Rory gently places the bear in her arms and steps back, grinning, as he tells her to open them. The bear has soft brown fur, beaded black eyes, and a cream-colored spot on its belly, and Amy can’t help it as loose tears track down her cheeks. “Oh, it’s _beautiful,”_ she breathes, setting it down on the coffee table and throwing her arms around Rory.

“We can’t put it in the crib, not--not at first. Suffocation hazard and all that. But! Baby’s first teddy bear!” he wraps his arms around her in turn.

Tomorrow they would bring home their son, having passed all of the requisite inspections, and Amy couldn’t remember feeling this nervous since---since-----the wedding; or, rather, the night before, when she’d wanted to run off in a box with a madman just to postpone the big, terrifying, life-altering event of the next day. She swallows back her fear and kisses him, long and deep.

They pull apart as a wheezing groan sounds in their flat.

“----River said the Doctor couldn’t come back in the TARDIS,” Rory states, his eyes wide. “That--that it would destroy the city, or something.”

“----I know,” is Amy’s reply, and she pulls away from him, her heart pounding in her chest. “But---what if it _is_ the Doctor? What if---” a hopeful smile forms on her face as she continues, “ _what if_ he got his hands on a different TARDIS somehow?!”

“No, remember the incident with House? There _are_ no other TARDIS’....”

They fall quiet as a purple bookcase appears in the middle of the room, towering over them, and they both hold their breath as a woman steps out, dressed in Victorian purple with an umbrella hooked over her arm. She smiles at them, her blue eyes shining in the light. “Ah! It _worked!_ **_Hello,_ **Ponds!”

“Hello?” Amy echoes, putting herself between Rory and the stranger. “And you are?”

The stranger gasps and lifts one hand to her mouth before saying, “y’ dinnae _recognize_ your ‘Raggedy Man’?”

“---what?” 

What follows next is a progression of the two women _shouting_ at each other in Scots Gaelic until Amy draws back, her arms crossed over her chest and both brows narrowed as she regards the stranger. 

“Amy?” Rory asks nervously. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, Rory. I’m just---you sound _Scottish_ now, Doctor.”

The woman laughs. “Yes, love; I picked it up from _you,_ after all,” and this, at least, wasn’t a lie; true, she did not pick up the dialect _directly_ from Amelia Williams, the _Doctor_ had, but at the moment _she_ is the Doctor, so it _technically_ isn’t a lie. 

“Oh? Well then,” Amy replies with a smile, and she grabs Rory’s hand before saying, “Well, now that you’re here, we have to tell you: we’re adopting! Baby boy, lost his parents in the war. We’re naming him Anthony Brian Williams, after Rory’s dad, and--” she looks towards Rory, who smiles and nods, before saying, “we’re bringin’ ‘im home tomorrow!”

Missy smiles, a wide, sharp-toothed smile, and fondly taps Amy’s cheek with one hand. “That’s _wonderful_ news, Amy! Is that teddy for him?” she gently taps it with her umbrella.

“Yea,” Rory responds. “I had it specially made, in fact. It’s…. it’s weird, you know? In school we learned all about what happened in World War Two, but _we_ just **_lived_ ** through it---granted, that makes _twice_ for me, what with the Pandorica and all that---but it was so much _worse_ than we ever could have imagined. I volunteered as a medic for the army while Amy did her part here, working in factories and helping the community. And while things might not be _perfect,_ we can _not_ wait to bring our son home!”

“Well,” Missy breathes, “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”

“Er---no, actually,” Rory replies. “But we _are_ wondering **_how_ **you’re here!” 

“Ah,” Missy draws back, placing her umbrella squarely in front of herself, her smile fading. “Well, ye see, I took my _friend’s_ TARDIS.”

“Friend?” Rory queries. “We--we thought all of your friends were, uh---”

“‘Dead?’ Nae. One of them escaped the Time War, though at great cost to his physical and mental health.” 

“I want to meet him,” Amy cuts in. “Ca--ca’ we meet him?”

“Why, _of_ **_course_ ** _!”_ Missy replies, turning on her heels and tapping the bookcase with the end of her umbrella. “Come along, Ponds!”

They follow her into the console room, marvelling at the purple lighting and the overall layout (complete with 1980s style technology and round, pale circles on the walls and a creature pulsing in and out of different phases of existence where the Eye of Harmony would normally be). It’s warm, but not terribly so. The TARDIS hums, wondering what their owner was playing at, and the Ponds take that as a greeting, and they laugh and say hello to the ship, still holding fast to one another.

 _A well-matched set,_ Missy thinks, and a pang shoots through her hearts, pulling her attention away from the console and sending tears rolling down her cheeks, which she wipes away with one hand. _Imagine, the Doctor’s hand in mine…_

“Are y’ alright?” Amy asks, noticing the tears. “Doctor….”

Shaking her head, Missy waves a dismissive hand before sending her TARDIS whirling through the vortex. It lands in the middle of the Doctor’s office at St. Luke’s, still in the form of a bookcase, but a taller one now, tall enough to tower over the Doctor’s phone box. Seated at his desk, his legs kicked up onto the table, he furrows his brows at the sight.

“Where and when are we?” Amy asks, dragging Rory towards the monitor.

“2017? That’s a few years beyond us,” Rory notes. “And we’re at a university?” this he addresses towards Missy, who smiles at him.

“Yes, dearie. Now, I need the two of you to wait here until I’ve explained to my friend who you are---he’s _very_ jealous of all you humans, you know.”

She walks out, whistling to herself and spinning her umbrella in one hand. The Doctor stands to greet her but falls quiet as she raises an index finger to her lips before explaining (in Gallifreyan) why she had so suddenly landed in his office (during _office hours,_ no less, although he was not prone to keeping them). _Amy and Rory: your friends, are in my ship, waiting to meet you---only thing is, I had to tell them that_ **_I’m you_ ** _in order for them to come with me, and---_

 _And you told them that I’m you?_ the Doctor counters. 

Missy averts her gaze, slumps her shoulders, and simply nods in response.

 _Alright,_ the Doctor tells her, _and---thank-you, Missy. For bringing them to visit._

She stands up straight, whirls around, and taps the bookcase with her umbrella, saying, “ye can come out now, Ponds! I _promise_ he won’t bite!” 

They exit the Master’s TARDIS with nervous smiles on their faces, their hands still entwined, and the Doctor’s hearts skip a beat for seeing the Ponds in the flesh and not just in his nightmares, or in the TARDIS databases, or in the odd room here and there in the TARDIS which Amy had designed or which Rory had frequented, rooms which still contained books with their handwriting in the margins or their toothbrushes or even photographs of their loved ones. Noting his distress, Missy reaches for the Doctor's hand, cautiously, tentatively, her hearts pounding in her chest and her teeth baring down on her bottom lip. He could betray her ruse, and rightfully so. It was only right that the Ponds be reunited with their old friend. But only his hand on hers, their fingers twined together, could abate the sick feeling which had settled in the pit of her stomach.

She feels as if she might faint as his fingers lace through her own.

“Hi,” Amy’s voice cuts through the fog, “I’m Amy, and this is my husband--”

“Rory,” he says, reaching one hand out towards the Doctor. “You are?”

 _Please,_ Missy thinks, _dinnae get mad… Dinnae do anything_ **_rash…_ **

Grinning widely, the Doctor takes Rory’s hand in his own and lies, saying, “I’m the _Master._ The Doctor and I have known each other since we were children. I’m always scheming, trying to destroy this planet because I know how much it means to them. I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” he stops as Missy elbows him squarely in the center of his chest. “Actually, it _is_ nice to meet you….” he drops Rory’s hand in favor of Amy’s, then lets his arm fall to his side. 

“So,” Amy’s gaze briefly darts down to the Time Lord’s hands before she says, “how long have the two of you been married?”

“Wh--what?” the Doctor splutters _. “Us?”_

Missy laughs nervously, saying, “n- _nae!_ We--we’re---”

“You had a life on Gallifrey, Doctor,” Rory tells Missy, “and you’ve told us before that you’ve had spouses other than River, and, well…” he, too, made a point of looking at their hands, only Amy had broken away from him and taken a step towards the Doctor, having seen through the ruse, and she places one hand on his cheek.

“Raggedy man,” she starts, and she gently brushes away tears as they roll down his cheeks, “ _why_ did you lie to us?”

The Doctor and Missy exchange nervous glances and start stammering before the Doctor manages to say, “how---how could you tell?”

Amy crosses her arms and says, “well, for _one_ thing, I spotted that photograph of our daughter on your desk, and for _another,_ there’s an ancient sadness in your eyes which isn’t visible in your friend’s…”

“Oh?” Missy interjects, her head tilting to one side. “What _do_ you see in my eyes, then?”

Hazel eyes meet crystalline blue ones and Amy replies, “I see someone in pain. Someone _scared._ And I _also_ see someone who’s clinging tightly to their best friend, hopeful that he won’t turn them away and shut them out for once.”

A sad smile forms on Missy’s lips and tears track their way down her cheeks and she opens her mouth to speak, only the Doctor gets there first.

“Missy and I, what we have, it’s--- _complicated,”_ the Doctor explains. “We’re what the kids might call, ‘frenemies.’ Sometimes she blows up planets and I have to stop her, sometimes we work together against the creator of the Daleks, sometimes we, uh----” 

Psychically, Missy tells him, _that’s_ **_enough_ ** _now, Love. And ‘frenemies?’_ **_Seriously?!_ **

_Yes,_ he responds, _I picked it up from Bill and the other students, like_ **_‘YOLO’_ ** _and_ **_‘Savage’_ ** _and making a lot of_ **_bets_ ** _all the time, which, frankly, is_ **_very_ ** _concerning to me because the University is already robbing these students of their money and most of them simply_ **_aren’t_ ** _in a position to be placing bets…_

 _Theta!_ Missy glares at him.

“It was nice to meet you, Master,” Amy says, walking over to the bookcase, “but I think Rory and I should be getting home, what with our big day tomorrow---”

“Wait!” the Doctor cries. He lets go of Missy’s hand and steps between Amy and Missy’s TARDIS, saying, “please, Amy. For you it’s been, what? _Five_ years? For me it’s been _centuries_ since we last saw each other, so, _please._ Tell me about your day tomorrow.”

Amy looks between the Doctor and her husband, weighing whether or not they should tell him---after all, he and the Master had tried to _deceive them_ by pretending to be each other; then again, this other Time Lord didn’t seem to wish them any harm---and after sighing, she nods at Rory.

“We’re adopting a little boy, Anthony Brian, and he’s _finally_ coming home tomorrow! We painted the nursery TARDIS-blue with white stars---we _wanted_ them to be glow-in-the-dark, except the only way to do that would be with radioactive paint, and we’re _not_ going to poison our baby with radium.” 

After several moments pass, Amy asks, “would you like to see it?”

Caught off guard, the Doctor opens his mouth to speak and stammers, “I--I---” _I lost the pair of you so long ago now, and the longer you’re here the more it hurts my hearts, because I_ **_failed_ ** _you…_

“Chin up, love,” Missy states gently. “We can use my TARDIS again and be back within five minutes. You might want to put up a sign telling your students you’ve gone off to the loo or to have a smoke or something.”

The Doctor nods, walks over to his desk, and pulls out a wood sign that says, “OUT: BACK IN ___ MINUTES,” which he hangs on a hook on the outside of his office door. “Nardole won’t like that I haven’t put a length of time down, but I used up all of my chalk in my last lecture and he still hasn’t come back with more! Honestly, I think I should fire him,” he tells Missy.

“Who’s Nardole?” Amy interjects. “Is he who comes after us?”

“What? No,” the Doctor shakes his head, “he’s---he knew your daughter, a long time ago. Worked for her, in fact, and now he works for me, making sure I stay here at the university…”

“Making sure we _both_ stay at the university, love,” Missy cuts in, giving the Doctor a pointed look. “But we can talk about him some other time. You two,” she points at the Ponds with her umbrella, “can go wait in my TARDIS, and we’ll be right in.”

Only once the two humans are out of the room does Missy drop her head, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze as she apologizes. “I---I didn’t do this to hurt ye, love. You’ve seemed _glum_ lately and I thought it might help to see your old friends, catch up and spend an evening with them…” _please dinnae be mad._

Missy could not have predicted what happens next: the Doctor takes her umbrella, props it against the desk, and then wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and he smells of sweat and chalk and sugar (he, just like her, has a rampant sweet tooth, and no doubt had consumed five cups of sugary tea with breakfast), and she buries her face in his chest and wraps her arms around him.

“Thank-you, Koschei,” the Doctor breathes. “Thank-you for bringing them back to me.” 

He pulls back and she starts sobbing, her anxiety getting the better of her; she had expected him to _yell_ and _scream_ and _cry,_ because she’d brought back ghosts and it hurt too much to see them, but here he is, hugging her and thanking her, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d even _held hands,_ let alone _hugged,_ and she feels incredibly self-conscious as it occurs to her that the Ponds are most likely watching on the console’s monitor. 

“Hey,” he twines one hand through hers and with the other reaches out to cup her cheek. “You did good, Missy. Thank-you.” The Doctor kisses her cheek and a furious flush overcomes her. 

She wipes away her tears and they walk, hand-in-hand, into her console room, where she lets him set the coordinates while she dabs furiously at her eyes with a purple handkerchief. 

They leave the Ponds early in the morning, giving them time to rest before they’re able to bring their son home, and once back in the Doctor’s office, he takes her hand and leads her into his ship, to one of the many bedrooms which he hardly ever uses, and they kick off their shoes and settle onto the bed, her face pressed against his chest and his arm wrapped around her.

They fall asleep, their minds entwined, and for a few blissful hours their millenia of animosity melts away, and they are once more Theta and Koschei, outcast but not alone.


End file.
